Gabi stared straight into the eyes of the most frightening person she’d ever met and said, “I’m not afraid to die. And I would die before betraying my faith. So you do what you have to do.”

His smile faded, but what she saw in his eyes wasn’t anger. Respect, perhaps?

“I could torture you,” he said. “We could see if your faith is strong enough to withstand that.”

She refused to back down. Her father had always told her that she was as stubborn as an old bull elephant.

“Do your worst,” she said.

“I could also shove it down your throat by force.”

“I’d throw it up all over you.”

At that, he stood up and started laughing again. He looked around the group and said, “Fine. You get a pass, little princess. But if anyone else decides to switch to Hinduism, I’ll start removing fingers and toes.”

None of the others dared meet his gaze, and Gabi didn’t allow herself to breathe until the giant had passed out all the burgers and returned to the vault room.

Chapter 41

Constable Isabel Price waited for Mr. Christopher to pick her up on the stoop of her building, as they had agreed upon earlier. He pulled to the curb in a silver BMW 6 series two-door coupe, five minutes late. He pushed open the passenger door and said, “You ready for a drive, love?”

She wore a gray pantsuit, which concealed two weapons, one in the small of her back and one on her ankle. She fought the urge to verify they were still in place as she hopped down from the stoop and slid into the BMW. Some kind of classical music reverberated quietly around the car’s interior, and the BMW smelled like leather and black licorice. She hated black licorice.

Christopher pulled away from the curb without another word. She waited a moment but then asked, “So how did you come to work for Mobius?”

In his Australian baritone, he replied, “Same way everyone starts working for him. He finds you.”

“He recruited you?”

“In a way.”

“What does that mean?”

He flicked on his turn signal and pulled onto the R41. “There’s still time to turn back, constable.”

“I can’t stop until I find Kruger.”

“Kruger’s a mercenary. He kills for money, not sport. Whatever he did, he was following someone’s orders.”

“Then I’ll find that person too.”

“After this, there’s no way your life will ever be the same. If you see his face, Kruger will either own you or put you in the ground.”

She watched the lights of Johannesburg fade into the distance behind them. “He doesn’t own me, and he never will.”

“He has a way of getting what he wants. Of making offers you can’t refuse.”

“If he can lead me to the bastards who killed my son and the others in that camp, then it’s worth it.”

“Everyone says that before they sell their soul. Not a lot say it afterward.”